Misc Collection of Hetalia Drabbles
by Resucitated-Blue
Summary: Story is as the title says. Character chapter focus in this order: Prussia (Character Death), Germany(Human Baker A.U), Russia (hit in the face with a frisbee), RusAme (Principle of Alternate Possibilities/Never Saying Goodbye). These are short, some silly and some are an attempt at being sad.
1. Prussia is Dead

A/N: Well here goes the short ficlets. I'm just digging up old things from my tumblr or my document folders. I've decided to be more lenient with what I post.

The following Drabble was inspired by a comic I saw on tumblr.

Disclaimer: As always nothing to do with history or anything.

Summary: Prussia decides it is time to go and only one nation is allowed to see it. Contains Character death.

* * *

"So…you're really going to leave now."

"Seems about time. I think my brother is doing very well now on his own—actually being more awesome than me ahaha—so I feel like I'm ready to move on. I've seen what I wanted to see here. How about you? Why aren't you leaving yet?"

"Ah," The man beside him leaned back, "Not yet. I don't think so."

"Over 4000 years huh?"

The black-haired man lifted the corners of his mouth, "Still not enough."

The other man got up and stretched, "I feel like an old man with a young body, even more so than when I was a great nation. Doesn't suit the awesome me at all!"

"They'll miss you, you know…"

"Europe won't." He said with a laugh then went on in a more serious tone. "France and Spain are never going to forgive me. They'll probably curse my name in their eulogy. Maybe they'll believe this is just another one of my pranks. That's the kind of best friends they are…losers…"

He ended his words wistfully. His grin softening. The yellow bird on his head remained silent.

"What about your brother?"

"I've been teaching him for long enough. He has stood strong these past years and I believe he'll continue to do so without need of me. My own great chapters have come and gone. All I've been doing is lingering around. Speaking of which-" He took a step forward, "-I should probably go."

The other looked up, still seated but kept his calm face in tact. He had seen many others go before him. It was awkward to speak to him since neither of them were particularly close. Then again, that was the point.

"I guess…this is goodbye…"

He nodded. "Goodbye. Maybe we'll see you there on the other side."

"Maybe…" the other man said to the now empty air.

* * *

A gentle breeze blew in through the window and caressed the curtains. Germany knocked on the door twice, then after receiving no response, opened it slowly. On the bed, there lay a book, a journal of some sort. The breeze had blown it back to its first page, its first entry. A pile of photographs lay beside it.


	2. Early to Rise

A/N: Seeing as the last one is depressing. Let's have a happier chapter to follow.

Human Bakery A.U: An ordinary, bread baking day for Ludwig.

* * *

**2:30 am**.

Wake up. Wash up. Get dressed. Get on his bike and go to the bakery. Ludwig breathed in the fresh early/late morning cool air and smiled as he pedaled to work. These morning starts always filled him with a sense of refreshing ready-to-work energy.

**2:50 am**.

He arrived at the bakery and noted that all the lights were off as he unlocked the door. The other shift must have finished up early. He would be all alone this morning then, a peaceful solitude. He entered the kitchen and stretched out a few of his joints that were still stiff from sleep. He put on his apron. It was time to get started.

**4:30 am**

All the machines were running and the German was calmly whirring around to keep track of it all. Checking on those mixers, adding ingredients as appropriate, putting this bin over there for a little bit, kneading this dough, sprinkling flour over here, fruit dealt over with there. Time flew by quickly as he worked the kitchen like a well run factory.

The bakery wasn't all that large, owned solely by him and his brother with four alternating bakers, so it didn't have a selection that was all that staggering. Still they had to stock up a lot being one of the few bakeries within their local area. Supply must be made to meet demands. Ding! There went a timer.

**5:50 am **

There was a soft close of the back door. The other employees had begun to arrive, mainly those who handled the counter and the small café part of the place. Mei Wang hung up her coat in the staff's break room and walked through the kitchen—Ludwig gave her a small nod while he worked—to ready the front for opening. A good ten minutes later, as was routine, her cousin Im Yong-Soo entered in whistling some new pop tune.

**6:15 am**

The wonderful smell fresh baked goods filled every crevice of the workspace. Ludwig breathed in deeply. The smell and sense of accomplishment lightened up his heart. He pulled out and placed, the pans of bread out on the cooling rack. Some buns were quickly sprinkled over with seeds or sugar depending on their style. Several minutes later, they would either be displayed in the cases at the front or put in the truck for early deliveries. At this point another baker had arrived to deal with the rest while the German started cleaning up the tables for the next batch.

**6:40 am**

He went over to a more secluded table to make his special cakes. He treated these with special care unlike the routine quickness he did with the daily breads. Only a few of these needed to be made, so the process had a few more steps and were a little more complicated than a bun. Ingredients were naturally smaller portioned and, as a result, needed to be more precise. The mix was often tasted.

_What was going to be today's special cake?_ Ludwig thought as he mixed the basic cake foundation. He closed his eyes for a little moment and thought of a color for an idea. Red, like Snow White's lips.

Apple Kuchen.

Okay. That was it then. He went over to where the fruit were kept and started to prepare it.

**7:30 am**

The shop opened. Early riser customers started to trickle in every five minutes or so. Chatter was quiet and coffee was brewed.

**8:15 am**

Breakfast was served with the cake and dark coffee inside the break room. He opened up the newspaper to glance through the news. He flipped through, nothing too big happening. Stocks seemed fine today. He took another sip and nearly choked on his drink when he reached the local news page.

**_Baking Wars Ahead?_**

_A New Patisserie set to open up on Sunday named "Le Charme des Premiers Jours*" by its owner Francis Bonnefoy. It has been kept as a secret for quite some time. Many locals have been kept speculating on what he had planned after he had bought out the old deli. Priding himself with wonderful cooking skills taught by his grandmother, this young man will be starting up the business all by himself. When asked about this daring venture he responded, "I thought of it as my duty to bring this place a higher class of food than that bakery across the street."Francis has worked as a lower chef for several well-known places in France such as…_

The German crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the bin. He gulped down the rest of his coffee to ignore the clear stab the Frenchman tossed at him in the paper. He had seen the place being set up across the street for two weeks now. Its owner was as snooty as he was cocky and flirtatious.

**8:40 am**

Ludwig was in his van delivering fresh bread to the local restaurants. The drop-offs were usually quick as the restaurants were now starting to prepare for their lunch and even their dinner meals. But it was never like that with one particular Italian one.

"Hey Ludwig!" greeted the cheery, lighter haired Italian, Feliciano. He was always so animated and waved his arms about as Ludwig stopped the van. The man chattered happily as they both carried in all the buns into the kitchen. Then the Italian, just as the German had feared, brought up the local Newspaper article.

"So…what do you think of that new place opening up across from you?" asked the man cheerily, oblivious to Ludwig's flinch at the question.

"I don't know yet, it hasn't opened up."

"Come on! Don't avoid the question like that! I'm asking what you think about your upcoming rivalry."

Ludwig remained firm, "It's not going to be a rivalry. We are two different styles of baked goods with little overlap."

"Hey!," Lovino, the Italian's older similar brother entered the room, "Feli, if you have time to talk then you have time to work. We still have that big birthday party to carter for!"

"Relax, we'll get that all done soon enough." the Italian replied. This stirred an even testier reply from the other. The German took his silent leave as the two got more winded up in their little friendly banter.

He closed the door and started up the car again. As he drove back to the bakery, he frowned.

"It's not going to be a rivalry," Ludwig reassured himself

By the time he got back, the other baker had already started their shift. There was no need to waste time worrying about that new shop. He was here, baking as he had always loved to do. The work was exhausting but satisfying. And he wouldn't have it any other way. Ludwig would return home later for a good five hour rest.

His day would begin around the same time tomorrow. A new, but exactly the same, day would greet him when he awoke. Fresh, yet familiar.

* * *

A/N: Originally the conception was a full fledged out A.U with France as some flamboyant patissiere(pastry chef) rival stealing Ludwig's customers. It will have to stay as a one-shot.

Sources Used:

*Baking schedule slightly based on this blog post: http [semi-colon] [slash][slash] .com[slash]blog-old[slash]2009[slash]4[slash]7[slash]the-night-kitchen-the-secret-lives-of-early-morning-bakers.h/t/m/l

*Baking process in this video:[youtube] watch?v=iUuKstAWof4

Other References:

* "Le Charme des premiers jours" is a French song by Féfé" that I thought sounds like a decent fancy name. It means the charm of the first or beginning days (my french is weak).


	3. Frisbee Meet Face: Multiple Takes

A/N: My different re-imaginings about how a scene with a frisbee hitting Russia's face would go, with America being the culprit. Gets sillier as it goes. I actually explore a few headcanons in this one.

* * *

**_Scene Take 1:_**

There weren't many things that Russia would allow to hit him in the face. A flying frisbee was certainly not one of those things.

With his quick reflexes, his hands caught it, crushed the piece of plastic then left it to fall dead on the floor. His eyes snapped up to glare at the perpetrator. _America._

"AW! Come on!" America said as he rushed over to pick the broken body of the toy. He solemnly mourned its passing then stood straight to face off against the Russian. "What'd you do that for?"

The Russian pushed him away to walk to his seat, "Toys do not belong in the meeting room, da?"

"It's called exercise" America spat back and stepped in his way. He looked the man over, "Not like you would know anything about it."

Russia giggled, "How amusing to hear that come from the fattest nation in this room. Say, America. has your weighing scale broken on you yet? Or have purchased one that can withstand the mass of an elephant?"

"Oh ha ha _ha_! You're so funny!"

* * *

**_Scene Take 2:_**

After subconsciously catching the piece of plastic, his hands crushed it. Immediately, he felt a pang of regret as he saw the broken toy in his hands. He frowned a little then let the dead thing fall to the floor.

He looked up to see America glare at him. The Russian steeled his expression as he spoke, "Toys do not belong in the meeting room, da?"

"What'd you do that for?" The American stepped further into his personal space. Russia didn't back down. The older man stepped forward, now purposefully breaking more of the frisbee underneath his foot.

"Childish activities do not belong here."

"It's called having fun, Russia. Not like you would know anything about that though."

The older man gave a small frown but bit his tongue to stop himself from replying. He smiled, pushed the blond to the side and walked off to his seat.

* * *

**_Scene Take 3:_**

He caught the disk quickly before it reached his nose. Knowing who tossed it, Russia sent it flying back fast at the American's face. The blond ducked and watched it shatter against the far wall, then returned a fiery glare back at the older man.

"What the hell?"

"Put away the toys, childish America." He replied as he walked over to his seat.

The other rolled his eyes, "It's called having fun. Or does your heart shrink away when you're near something that close to joy?"

Russia put on a sweet smile and tossed a book nearby. It hit the American smack in the chest. "Ufufu, silly American. I know what that means. _That_, for instance, was very fun."

"Of course fun for you means someone else's pain, sick bastard."

"Hm?" Russia tilted his head innocently. His hands itched to pull out his metal pipe.

* * *

**_Scene Take 4:_**

"Look out!"

Upon seeing the spinning disc, Russia took a step back and dodged it. He raised his head cautiously then looked at the American rushing at him. Worry painted the younger man's face.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Da." He said firmly and looked at where the disc landed, "You should be playing this outside. Less people will get hurt, da?"

America rubbed the back of his head, "I'm really sorry about that...say...do you wanna join us?"

* * *

**_Scene Take 5:_**

Before Russia had any idea what was coming, a flat plastic disc contacted his face with a loud _CRACK! _An 'oh shit' was heard shouted across the room and from the large thumping noises approaching him, he could tell someone was coming over. He pulled his hands away from his nose. Drops of blood dripped into his hands.

"Oh, hey, man...I'm so sorr-"

The American was quickly lifted up by his partly sentient scarf and wrapped tight. Russia raised his head slowly to unleash the full force of his glower. He glanced down at the disk on the ground, scooped it up and smiled at the American.

"And what is this? Another childish game?" Russia slowly said, punctuating every word. Cracks appeared on the plastic, branching out from his hands. His smile tightened as his grip did.

"Didn't...mean...to…" America gasped out, clearly struggling in the constricting bind he was in. The scarf bulged as he squirmed and the Russian laughed. Undeterred, the blond kept at it, and then a loud riiiiiiip was heard. He dropped to floor, getting all the air he could get with harsh and loud coughs. He raised his head, fist ready to punch him in response for the attempt at strangulation, but then stopped. Russia looked more hurt than angry.

"That...that…" Poor man looked paler, which was a surprise on its own.

America stood up, crossed his arms and looked away, "Well don't choke me with your freaky-ass scarf."

"THOSE GHOSTS WERE TRYING TO PROTECT ME!"

"G-ghosts?" The blond looked down at the torn apart fabric at his feet. It lay flat and dead, as scarves were meant to be. Poor America gulped. He thought that the thing was radioactive, not outright _possessed._

"NOW THEY'LL HAUNT YOU FOREVER!" The Russian wailed, frightening the entire room. The older man tossed the disc at him. "HOPE YOU LIKE THAT! YOU STEAL ALL THE FRIENDS I EVER HAD!" And with that, he dashed out of the room.

America stood there frozen. His mouth formed an inaudible word, "wait…"

* * *

A/N: I just couldn't decide how I wanted this scene to really play out. The last drabble will be posted in a few hours. I have a bit of reformatting to do.


	4. A Kiss and A Goodbye

A/N: This last chapter is technically two different drabbles but both are way too short to just be on their own. One was written to remember something for a quiz and one was written with a prompt.

* * *

_Prompt: The Principle of Alternate Possibility*_

The nations poured out of the meeting room, chatting amiably amongst themselves as they broke for lunch. Well, as amiable as they normally would. Russia readjusted his scarf while he walked and thought about where he would go to eat…perhaps that one-

"Hey, Russia I have something to talk about with you!"

The nation in question turned to see America waving him over. Seeing as he was in no rush, the silver-haired nation walked over. America grinned, almost mischievously, as he came closer.

"Da, what do you-"

Suddenly, with a quick grab of Russia's arm, America slammed him against the wall. The other man tried to break out of his grip but the nation simply exerted more of his super-human strength in response. The Russian looked up into those eyes. Their intensity burned into him, like a burning blue flame, that earlier glint of mischief showing through. The grin was gone, leaving behind a collected serious face.

"I want to discuss a thought experiment with you," the blond said slowly, clearly struggling to keep his voice indifferent and calm. Was that a blush?

"Yes?"

"Let's say...I decide that I'm going to commit a crime, arson to be specific." He leaned in to whisper with a voice that was low and seductive. "I'm going to kiss you right in front of everyone, right here, right now. And baby, I'm never letting go."

"Really, now?" Russia smirked. America continued staring intensely.

In anticipation, the other man braced himself, but then America pulled back. Believing the other had lost his nerve, Russia tried to shift away. However, the younger nation still didn't let him go and kept a relatively close tempting distance. America was not done speaking yet.

"But…" the blond went on, "I could chose not."

Again, a little more frustrated about how he was being teased, Russia tried in vain to break free. He could sense that there was now someone staring at them, but he couldn't break eye contact with the younger man before him. He could feel the other's warm breath on him. He was certain that his own face was slowly reddening.

His eyes narrowed to meet the other's challenge, "Dorogoy I swear, if you leave it at this-"

The American smirked and leaned in closer, yet still not close enough, "So, you're threatening me to do it?"

"Only if you choose to do otherwise," Russia whispered back.

"Only if I choose to do otherwise…"the other repeated softly. "So, in the end I'm still going to do so, right? I have no other alternatives. No matter what I choose, it will only end in me performing the act. Yet, my choice does affect whether or not the act was made by the force of a threat."

The Russian was starting to tire of this game. He frowned, "Alfred, what are you playi-"

America's lips cut him off. It was as hot as was promised, and Russia found himself sinking into the wall. The Russian's hands were slowly let free but they simply went over to tangle in the blonde's hair.

Finally, they broke, both breathless. America pulled back completely, allowing Russia to stand away from the wall. That smirk on the younger man's face was more devilish than it ever was before,

"Now, am I guilty?"

* * *

_Prompt:__He always hung up the phone without a goodbye._

It bothered Alfred more than he would ever admit. Their conversation would finish, as they both had to return to their work. Yet, the sudden click always left him a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

As more years passed, he never got an answer to why. Somehow he always found himself distracted. And as he froze in that phone booth, heart beating fast, he feared he never would.

The large horn sound in the background of the other line was unmistakable.

Click!

Meanwhile, Ivan could hear the siren of an ambulance approaching. In his pocket, a gift. In his hand, his cellphone. If Alfred had the chance to ask he would have told him.

_I have never believed our conservations end, but instead they pick up from where they last were. _

* * *

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little random collection. I'm trying to get rid of all the little ideas I have floating around so that I won't have an urge to write more about them later. Thank you for reading :)

*The Principle of Alternate Possibilities: Essentially the concept is as follows: In court, one could be excused from a crime if there was no possible way that person could have reasonably acted otherwise. For example, you could be threatened into firing a weapon at someone. Therefore, it seems logical you should escape total blame.

However, there are a few cases of counterexamples which Harry Frankfurt(philosopher) provides that argues against it. The related drabble is a simplified version of a case example. In the original, Person A should _not_ be aware of Person B's threats or existence but that's a minor detail.


End file.
